


Worst Challenge

by stephanericher



Series: 31 Days of Horoscopes [20]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:51:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9555914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: 1/31: Career matters may involve some touchy circumstances that require ingenious methods to solve, Aquarius. You're in the right frame of mind to come up with them. You're definitely up for a challenge, and you will probably dig right in and come up with lots of great ideas. These concepts will not only get you through the current situation but also prove useful in the future. Go to it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so this 31-day challenge is based on the wonderful [31-Day Horoscope Challenge by @icandrawamoth](http://archiveofourown.org/series/621022). Simply: read your horoscope for the day from horoscope.com (Aquarius for me); use it as a writing prompt.

Taiga breaks his wrist on a fluke play in a game full of them in Orlando. He takes the shot from right under the basket and the other team’s center pushes him down hard, too hard. Tatsuya’s already wincing before Taiga hits the floor on the TV, and then he does, palm-first. Then there’s a funny sort of noise and Taiga shouts, wordlessly. It’s not his getting-fired-up or mad-at-you shout; it sounds like he’s in pain, and then he rolls over, clutching his left wrist to his chest. They’re calling the trainer over and the announcers are speculating but Tatsuya’s tuning them out, craning his neck even though it won’t do any good because he can’t see through the wall of people surrounding Taiga.  
  
He’s holding down the F5 key on his laptop with his twitter feed open when he gets a call from Taiga.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“It’s my wrist. It’s broken. They said six weeks in a cast.”  
  
He can picture Taiga frowning, back leaning against a white wall, looking at his hand.  
  
“Does it hurt?”  
  
“Kind of. Not really.”  
  
Tatsuya hopes he’s not lying.  
  
“I’m coming home tomorrow morning. I asked them to put me on the redeye, but…” Taiga sighs.  
  
Affection rushes through Tatsuya; he wants Taiga home now too, not in some strange hotel across the country alone and hurt.  
  
“I’ll meet you at the airport.”  
  
He can take a sick day from work, do some in the afternoon when Taiga’s sleeping off the jet lag and come in early the next morning.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
He can hear Taiga shifting in the background, and then a sharp groan.  
  
“Taiga?”  
  
“I’m fine, just—I’m used to putting weight on my hand.”  
  
“Should I let you go?”  
  
“I—okay, yeah. Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be. I’m sorry you’re hurt.”  
  
“Not your fault.”  
  
“I love you. Be careful.”  
  
“Yeah, I will be. Love you, too.”  
  
There’s the sound of fumbling, the beep of his phone, and then silence.

* * *

The first few days Taiga mostly lies around the house and it’s almost nice—not that he’s hurting and that he can’t do stuff, but because for once he’s home and free of obligations in the winter, and it’s nice to be able to cook for him even if they can’t do it together. But that feeling erodes quickly like lamination being scraped away. Taiga’s never been particularly patient or good at not doing what he loves, and even when he’s tweaked a muscle or gotten sick he can still do basketball things and be that much closer to the court. Riding the stationary bicycle and being prodded at by team staff wouldn’t be fun for anyone, but when they only remind him how much longer it is until he can play they’re even worse.  
  
And he can’t do a lot of things he’s used to; he can’t really cook or carry things; he can’t crack open a bottle of beer without some difficulty and he can’t prop himself up on his hands or do push-ups. Tatsuya doesn’t mind helping, but somehow that only makes Taiga scowl harder and look away—and Tatsuya gets the feeling, but it doesn’t make it hurt less.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Taiga says, the first and second times it happens, but then he stops repeating himself.  
  
Tatsuya stops reacting, just buries the hurt deeper inside of him and still offers to help the next time. And every time, Taiga tries not to get annoyed, but it’s like a scab they can’t stop picking at, and every reaction is quicker and more forceful. And then it all breaks.  
  
“Taiga? Can I—?”  
  
Taiga practically shoves the jar of mustard he’s trying to open into Tatsuya’s hand and sneers. Tatsuya feels his face heat up; he grasps the jar around the bottom but he can’t move his other hand to clasp the top.  
  
“Yes, you can. No, I can’t like this and I—just, stop, Tatsuya, look, I get you’re trying to help and I appreciate it but you’re just—it only makes it worse and I—do you get it?”  
  
Tatsuya nods on autopilot. He moves his hand up to the top of the jar. The only sounds in the room are the hum of the refrigerator and their breathing, until the lid pops loose. It echoes off the walls, and Tatsuya sets down the jar. He turns, walks away, still nothing.  
  
“Wait—shit.”  
  
He doesn’t know where he is, what he’s doing, until he’s walked to the third-closest Starbucks and has an iced latte in his hand. He sits down at a table and doesn’t leave until half an hour after Taiga’s PT session is scheduled to start.

* * *

“Hey,” says Taiga.  
  
He’s got a cold six-pack of Tatsuya’s favorite beer in his right hand, a peace offering.  
  
“Hey,” says Tatsuya.  
  
Taiga smiles, weak and nervous, and plops the beer on the table as he sits down, pulling out the last two cans one-handed and opening them both. He hands one to Tatsuya.  
  
“Cheating on your nutrition plan?” says Tatsuya.  
  
“Doesn’t matter as much when I’m weeks out of playing,” says Taiga. “Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you; I know it’s not your fault and you’re not trying to do too much and I just hate being like this. But I can’t do shit about it, so.”  
  
“I know,” says Tatsuya. “It’s not like I’ve never used you as a focus for my own problems.”  
  
“But that doesn’t mean you should let me do it to you,” says Taiga.  
  
He reaches for Tatsuya’s hand with his own, wet from the condensation on the beer can. Tatsuya clutches it tightly, like if he lets it go everything will fall apart. It won’t, of course, but he still wants to hold onto this. Taiga’s looking at him, gaze soft but worried, and Tatsuya squeezes his hand even tighter. Taiga tugs on his hand, and Tatsuya obliges, standing up and almost falling back into Taiga’s lap, Taiga’s arm wrapped around him and holding him into place.


End file.
